


A Deal Here And There Makes Every Demon Happy

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Angels, Demons, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is really getting tired of the demon on his turf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Deal Here And There Makes Every Demon Happy

“On your left.” comes a purr in Sam's ear, and he turns his head, regarding the blond with a raised eyebrow.

“You ever get tired of that, Speedy McDarkson?”

“No. Why, do you do?” Steve _grins_ at him, and he really did pick the right vessel with his big blue eyes and pretty blond hair, and those big-ass muscles – boy couldn't get arrested by the humans in _this_ neighbourhood if he tried. Not that they usually _do_ get arrested; magic like theirs is usually subtle enough that no one would even look their way.

“A little.” Steve opens his mouth, but Sam shakes his head. “Ain't giving up.”

Steve huffs out a sigh and wraps one of those beefy arms around Sam's shoulders, looking out from the building and down.

Natasha and Clint: it's always Natasha and Clint. Clint is firmly in Sam's pocket, sweet, well-meaning, a little incompetent feelings-wise but no less a good guy. And Nat? Well. She can skirt the line, but she's usually Sam's girl these days.

Not for lack of trying on Steve's part, of course.

“She listens to every word I whisper in her ear, you know. Hey, Nat, you feel like getting it on with _that_ girl, _that_ dude? Don't leave 'em your number, just leave 'em to wake up feeling _used_. You could kill that guy, Nat, just shoot him right through-”

“She ever listen to you, these days?” Sam asks. There's a pause, and then he hears the sound of Steve sucking his teeth. “Oh, baby, don't feel bad. I'm sure there're _some_ days you're good at your job: just not while I'm around.” Steve laughs, dropping his ass onto the side of the building and letting his legs dangle over the edge: no one will see him if he doesn't want to be seen, after all.

Succubi have a perfect sense for illusion, after all.

Steve is a pretty demon, Sam'll give him that, but he isn't tied down in the way Sam is: angels have a regimented set of rules and regulations, and Sam is assigned _his_ city of New York, only allowed to stray outwards if there are extenuating circumstances. He doesn't have the whole place to himself to run, of course; he has a dozen Cherubim under his command and sixty other rankless angels, but having a command position only gives him _more_ responsibility.

Steve has no responsibilities at all. Demons don't get _assigned_ areas, don't have rules or regulations unless they're set to Crossroad duty or something like that – Steve, by all accounts, should be a loose canon, corrupting everyone in his path with a well-placed burst of desire or arousal, but he _isn't_.

The guy, instead, trails after Sam like a sexy puppy and undoes say, 45% of the good he does in a day's work.

It's _infuriating_ , and this pretty boy does it with a _grin_ on his face, and gets frustrated when he can't undo more.

“Don't you have better things to do, Steve?” Sam asks, and Steve crosses his arms over his chest as he looks up at the Seraph with a _pout_ on his face. “You ain't _assigned_ to me. You don't have to follow me around, you don't have to try and poke at my charges. Why'd you do it? You trying to climb your way up Hades' ladder?”

Steve just beams up at him, sweet as cherry pie, like he always does when Sam asks this question.

“Oh, I don't know. I just- _whoa_ -” The slab under Steve comes slightly loose, and then the demon is plummeting down to the street below: he doesn't always do _that_.

Sam dives down after him almost automatically, black-feathered wings unfurling from his body and spreading wide as he does so. He catches the succubus under the arm and beats his wings hard as he makes his way up; beneath them Clint and Nat shift at their table for the sake of the sudden, unexplained breeze, but no one can see them, of course.

“Knew you'd catch me. Guardian angel.” Steve says, and Sam almost rolls his eyes as he throws the other man away from him: he should have figured Steve dropping off the building was a ploy and a _game_.

“I'm not your guardian, kid.” Sam says, and he doesn't feel bad about calling him _kid_ , either: Steve is an _amoeba_ compared to Sam, ancient and eternal and more powerful than Steve could _ever_ imagine. And yet Sam hasn't turned him to dust and sand and sulfur for _daring_ to step up to an angel of further superiority.

“No.” Steve agrees in a light tone as his own wings unfurl, and they're as blue as his eyes are, blending in with the sky around him. No feathers like Sam's, of course. Instead, they're leathery with a hint of fur on the shoulders of them like bats' wings, and a matching tail accompanies them, curling around Steve's own thigh as he flies on. “You still want your answer?”

“Gimme my answer.” Sam retorts, and Steve flies close to him, puts his hands on Sam's hips and ensures their chests are put together.

“Because I want you to teach me a _lesson_ , Sam.” Steve purrs against his mouth.

“I could _liquefy_ you, Steve, send you screaming back to Hell. With the simplest burst of fire or water.” Sam just gives him this massive, shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, Sam. I know.” Sam throws his hand around Steve's neck and lets Holy Fire burn under his own skin, making Steve let out a harsh _hiss_ of noise as he coughs out sulfuric smoke, but then Sam stops for reasons of-

Ineffability.

“You've been tailing me for months.”

“Uh huh.”

“Because you want to fuck an _angel_?”

“Uh- uh, well, not ex- _aigh_ -” Steve chokes out a sound as Sam tightens his hand for a second, and then they crash together, Sam's mouth pressing hard against Steve's as he kisses the demon hard.

“I'm gonna fuck you, demon boy, but do you know what's going to happen after that?” Steve shakes his head in a tiny way, as much as he can do with a Seraph's mighty grip about his throat.

“I'm gonna get the Hell outta your town?”

“That's right.”

“Yes, _sir_.” Sam is _angry_ , Lord, he is angry, and yet, and yet, and _yet_. But Sam hasn't had sex in a little while – he usually only indulges when it's necessary, when it could help someone along the way, but here? He grabs at Steve's wrist as they begin to make their way down, wrenches the other's hand to his mouth and _spits_ on the back of it. “ _Ow_ -” Steve cries out sharply, and the skin _sizzles_. “What in the Hell was that?”

“Just checking my fluids still burn. I'm gonna really enjoy fucking that peachy ass of yours open, demon boy.” Sam purrs, and the demon _shivers_ as he touches down on the ground, looking delighted at the thought. There's nothing like Hell for turning out a good masochist here and there.

“Aren't you supposed to be the good guys?”

“Didn't you once punch Hitler in the face?” Steve laughs.

“Fair point. You wanna, uh, go now, then?”

“Impatient.”

“Just one of the sins I'm _sure_ you'll get me for.” What a little _punk_ , Sam thinks, with a sense of complete and utter satisfaction.

“Oh, you're right, kid. I'll meet you at 6. You get an hour with me, and then you're _gone_.” Steve _beams_.

“Sounds _perfect._ ”

 


End file.
